Convergance
by Olympus - 117
Summary: After the the Crucible is fired, the dark energy from the blast sends Commander Shepard someplace . . . different. Now her best (and only) chance to get home is a suicidal quest to destroy one ring. Fortunately Abigail Shepard is a rather old hat with suicide missions. Female Shepard, Vanguard, War Hero, Paragade. Post ME3 ending. Contains explicit language, violence.
1. An Unexpected Journey

_**Summary**: After the firing of the Crucible, the dark energy from the blast sends Commander Shepard someplace ... different. Now her best (and only) chance to get home is a suicidal quest to destroy one ring. Fortunately Abigail Shepard is a rather old hat with suicide missions. Female Shepard, Vanguard, War Hero, Paragade._

_**General Disclaimer:** Lord of the Rings and Mass Effect are not mine. They belong to J.R.R Tolkien and Bioware respectively. _

_**A/N:** So, I've been daydreaming about this story for ages, wishing someone would write something like this ... Then I realised – I could! So this is my answer to the (Destroy) ending of ME3 because well, let's be honest, Bioware fucked that one up. I tried to keep it a grounded and possible as I could, but with stories like this, some willing suspension of disbelief is inevitably required – that and because I'm not a very good writer. So here it is!_

_Shepard is a woman, a Vanguard, with a War Hero Background. She is half Paragon, half Renegade - so essentially altruistic, but not above getting her hands dirty._

_Plus a big thank you to **The Tardis Blue Impala** for being my Beta for this story! _

_That's it, I'll stop rambling. Enjoy!_

* * *

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'  
We are not now that strength which in old days  
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;  
One equal temper of heroic hearts,  
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will  
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

~Tennyson, Ulysses

* * *

**Prologue**

**An Unexpected Journey **

Commander Abigail Shepard staggered up the steps, fiery pain blossoming with each step she took, her vision smearing and wavering to the side. Black spots danced in her vision as exhaustion clawed at her, threatening to drag her into unconsciousness.

_She was tired. So tired_.

Ahead of her, the console glinted in the half light of the Council chambers, maddeningly out of reach. Abigail coughed and tasted blood welling up in her mouth. She spat it to the side and continued on despite wanting nothing more than to just lie down on the cool metal floor and let sweet oblivion overtake her. She stumbled forward eventually making it to the other side of the chamber. She must have blacked out for a moment because the next thing she knew, she was leaning on the console , her blood smearing the controls

Abigail squinted, trying to read the holographic panels but her vision continued to swim in and out of focus. She reached out with trembling hands and somehow managed to open communications. Instantly, a thousand different voices flooded the room, from every ship in the fleet above Earth to teams fighting on the ground. Screams for assistance, orders to flank the Reaper ships, cries of "Husk!" and a myriad other calls mixed together into a cacophony of noise.

Another voice cut through the rest. _{Sword fleet, this is Admiral Hackett. The Crucible is in position and will lock down onto the station in ten seconds. Stand by. We don't know what this thing is going do.}_

"This is . . . Shepard," Abigail rasped out, the words shooting a burning pain down her raw throat. "Does . . . does anybody copy ?" she tried again, but her voice was only one of many and was drowned out by the other calls.

There was an enormous dull grating sound that shook the whole Citadel. A moment later the console in front of her shimmered and was replaced by a pulsating blue oval orb. It resembled the core of a mass relay, floating in space. Thrumming with energy, it hovered at chest level in front of her. Abigail squinted at it in confusion.

_. . .the hell?_

_{Something is wrong,} _said Hackett_. {The Crucible is attached but it is not firing. Nothing is happening.}_

_{Sir, we've detected a strange power surge among all the Citadel systems. There appears to be an eight hundred percent dark energy draw increase from the Sol relay.}_

_{So it's powered __– __but why isn't it firing?}_

Abigail tried to think, wracking her weary brain. _So tired._

" Something . . . there must be . . . something… I can . . . do." Shepard glanced around the empty room, hoping for _anything_, a clue; a hint. In her pain-addled state, her eyes rested on the blue orb and after a moment, she reached out, fingers hovering above the pulsating light. Blue sparks shot out from the orb, dancing across her fingertips . She shrank back, but surprisingly, there was no pain.

Abigail closed her eyes and reached out a trembling hand.

"Fuck it. Here goes nothing," she said to no-one, and she slammed her palm into the blue orb. A flash of electric blue light lit up the chamber before the world dissolved and she found herself floating in blackness.

There was nothing, yet Abigail knew for certain that _she_ was there, despite not knowing exactly where 'there' was. Slowly, tiny pinpricks of light started to come into being around her and Abigail came to the startling conclusion that she was floating in space. Despite the impossibility of such a thing, she didn't have it in her to question it. She needed to find a way to fire the Crucible.

"Hello?" she called out. "Is anyone there? What . . . what do I need to do?"

A flicker of blue caught her eye and she spun around. A wisp of blue energy danced in the space around her before coming to a stop in front of Abigail and coalescing into an ethereal form of a young boy. His transparent body shimmered and seemed to be made of energy that trailed around in tendrils of light.

"Who are you?" Abigail asked cautiously.

"I am the Catalyst," said the boy, his voice echoing after each word. His head turned to the side almost curiously as he seemed to examine Shepard. "I am the beginning and the end, f everything. I am that which you call the 'Crucible'."

"Can you tell me how to destroy the Reapers?" Abigail asked him.

The Catalyst paused for a moment and looked up into her eyes."Yes," he said.

"Then do it already!" she snapped.

"I cannot," said the Catalyst.

Abigail took a furious step forward, "What do you mean you can't –"

The Catalyst interrupted her, "I cannot, because you must first make a choice."

"What choice?" she almost growled out.

"You must decide, for in the destruction of that which you call Reapers, trillions will pay the price of your actions."

"Trillions are already dying!" Abigail shouted. "I need to end this. I _have_ to." The last part came out a choked whisper.

The Catalyst remained stoic, "And trillions more will die if you do."

Shepard drew her pistol from her hip, "You're really starting to piss me off," she growled out.

The Catalyst looked at her pistol with what seemed like cold disinterest. "You cannot hurt me."

Abigail raised her carnifex and pointed it at the Catalyst. "I can try," she said coldly. "Just tell me how to kill the goddamn Reapers!

The Catalyst nodded slowly, the energy that made up its body rippling as it did so. "Very well. But you cannot make this decision in empty blindness. Know this: death is part of the cycle. There must always be balance. Those that you call Reapers are part of that balance. With their destruction, darkness will follow."

"Enough with the philosophical crap," Abigail ground out. "If you don't fire the Crucible, _right fucking now_, my people are going to die!" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "End. It. _Now_."

The Catalyst bowed. "As you wish."

Everything began to blur and the stars were disappearing, the black of space once again engulfing her. A rushing sensation filled her and Abigail began to fall uncontrollably through the darkness. The last thing she heard was the Catalyst whispering, its haunting voice echoing around her: _". . . and darkness will follow."_

Abigail found herself back in the Council chamber, along with all of the pain which came rushing back, the intensity of it forcing her to all fours. The console had re-appeared and a moment later, the cacophony of voices rushed back, as if someone had suddenly turned the volume back up.

_{This is Hackett. The Crucible is unresponsive. Repeat, the Crucible is not firing! Reaper forces are converging on the Citadel, all units engage. Don't let them near it!}_

_{Wait __– __Sir, I've got dark energy readings. The input just tripled!}_

A low hum vibrated throughout the Citadel, followed by a loud groan. Abigail could feel the very floor thrumming with energy.

_{Sir, the Citadel arms are opening!}_

Abigail managed to push herself to her feet, her head spinning with vertigo, and slammed her hand on the communications console, activating a broad open channel. "This is . . ." she coughed, blood rising up her throat. She spat it out and continued, ". . . Commander Shepard," she said roughly. "The Crucible is ready to fire. Get your people out of there. Repeat: Crucible is about to fire."

There was a burst of static, before a voice responded, _{This is the Orizaba. Roger that! We read you Commander! We did it!}_

_{This is Admiral Hackett, all units, break off! We are showing that the Crucible is activating. Estimated time to fire is sixty seconds.}_

Abigail sighed and slumped to the floor, her back against the console. They had done it. Everything in she had done in the last few months had been leading to this, all of the death, the pain, the sacrifice. She knew she probably wouldn't survive but just knowing that the others would be safe – that they had made it was good enough. Incomprehensible relief flowed though her.

_{Commander, this is Hackett. Goddamn, you did it Commander! . . . Commander Shepard . . . respond! . . .}_

Everything was getting blurry and the voices in the channel were becoming became muffled, and fading away into echos.

_{Commander? Commander Shepard? Do you read . . . do you . . . read . . . Commander . . .}_

A burst of static, then: _{Crucible . . .is firing. Dark energy . . . readings are off the . . . charts! Stand by for . . . impact!}_

There was a shuddering groan; then the world lit up white.

Energy filled the air, hissing and crackling, the entire Citadel seemed to come alive, every surface glowing a radiant white. The wave of white energy engulfed Abigail and she felt the unmistakable crackle of her biotics come to life around her.

"What . . ."

She was cut off as the white energy seemed to pour into her, mixing in with her biotics. Flashes of blue and white filled her vision and the Commander let out a wordless scream as the entire Citadel violently shook. Then Abigail felt the familiar tug of a biotic charge, the low swoop of her stomach, reminiscent of traveling through mass relays. The white and blue energy enveloped her and for a brief moment, she could see nothing; there was silence.

A loud rushing noise assaulted her ears and the very air around her lit up with flashes of white and blue. Abigail found herself slipping away from consciousness, the pain of her injuries finally taking their toll. She more felt than saw the stream of white and blue energy around her, and for a brief moment, she saw stars, shining brilliantly against the night sky. Then an enormous explosion, like she was being torn apart and put back together again, sent her tumbling into darkness and Commander Abigail Shepard knew no more.

* * *

The white energy died down and the Citadel returned to its normal colour. In the Council chambers, the console flickered to life. _{Shepard! This is Hackett . . . Shepard, do you read . . . Commander! Respond!}_

The chamber remained silent and empty. Hours later, when C-Sec and Alliance personnel managed to breach the Council Chambers, they found the body of Captain Anderson, the mangled corpse of the Illusive Man and various other bodies of Cerberus personnel. But though they tired, scouring the entire Presidium – and even the Citadel, it was all in vain. Not one trace of their hero remained.

Commander Shepard was gone.

* * *

_What did you think?  
_


	2. Awakening

**Chapter 2 - Awakening**

* * *

A/N: Hey all, just some notes: there will be no pairings for this story (unless I change my mind) but feel free to infer what you will. And also be forewarned, this story will have some, err . . . strong language, because, hey, Shepard's not a complete Paragon, she has to show her Renegade colours in there somewhere . . .

And yes, I know that Vanguards don't get omni blades but, whatever, I say they do . . . so there.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Cold. _

That was the first thing that Commander Abigail Shepard became aware of. How _goddamn_ cold it was. She unconsciously shivered. In that place between dreams and waking, for a brief moment, she knew peace.

Then she remembered how goddamn cold it was.

Her green eyes slowly and painfully flickered open. A brilliant night sky stared back down at her, millions of stars winking merrily. Abigail shivered again and she could see her breath come out in little clouds of white smoke above her.

For a moment, she was confused. How had she gotten here? Where was she? Was she in a camp in Basic? Onboard the Normandy still? Then the events of the past few hours caught up with her and she closed her eyes; the rush of memories all jumbled up and disjointed making her head pound painfully.

_The Reapers._ Had they won? Abigail wracked her brain. She remembered fighting on Earth with the Hammer teams, the mad rush for the beam. She remembered being hit by Harbinger's MHD, the excruciating pain of having her flesh burned off. She remembered somehow managing to get to the Citadel, to the Council chambers. Anderson dying. The Illusive Man. At this she let out a low growl.

_At least that bastard was dead._

She had managed to open the Citadel and they had docked the Crucible. Then – what had happened? It all seemed like a blur of pain and even more pain. She vaguely recalled opening communications with Sword Fleet. Admiral Hackett's voice . . .

Damn it, why was this so hard to remember?

There had been a problem, the Crucible didn't fire, she had to do something . . . then there had been something . . . blue?

"The Catalyst!" she said out loud, and then broke out in a fit of coughing, her throat raw, although thankfully, no blood came up this time.

At this, Shepard rocketed to full consciousness. Adrenaline pounding through her body washed away the remaining vestiges of sleep and she blinked; the soldier in her instantly taking in her surroundings as she staggered to her feet, wincing as her injuries vehemently protested her actions. A hiss of pain escaped her lips and she almost fell back down again as just about her entire body flared up in hurt.

"Damn," she muttered, and closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths and relegating the pain to her back of her mind, just as she had been trained.

She glanced up. It was night, as attested by the darkness that enveloped everything like a thick blanket and the stars twinkling above.

And it was fucking _cold_.

Teeth chattering, she twisted around, noting the silhouettes of several trees. Aside from that and the sparse undergrowth, open plains stretched out in all directions. In the far distance, she could vaguely make out the outlines of a mountain range across the horizon.

Where _was_ she? Abigail frowned. Could she have crash landed on Earth? If that was the case, how had she not burned up on re-entry? And if the Citadel had been destroyed, there would be at least _some_ wreckage. Looking around, she could see no odd shapes protruding from the landscape that hinted to hunks of space-station hull.

Abigail shook her head. She'd worry about that later; more important matters demanded her attention. She assessed her own condition: Her injuries were still there, painfully smarting yet not burning furiously as they had before. From what little she could tell in the darkness, her skin was still badly scarred. Almost glowing in the dark, orange scars criss-crossed exposed flesh, her cybernetic implants showing through.

Her plate armour was rent apart and mangled, at some places the ceramic had fused or completely boiled down to her skin suit, which also bore numerous holes and gashes – although thankfully, it still held together. A quick, almost instinctive check of her kinetic barrier emitter found it still active, although without her helmet, she was unable to fully assess its functionality. Similarly, her hand brushed across the back of her neck, checking her biotic implant. The L5x seemed undamaged, but again, only time would tell.

In the darkness, she groped for her carnifex and discovered it miraculously still attached to her hip plate. She fumbled with the weapon for a brief moment before it occurred to her to check her Omni tool.

"Idiot," Abigail berated herself. That should have been the first thing she had looked for. The orange holographic glove lit up on her arm, illuminating the world around her. It was then that she realised that she was standing in the middle of a wide crater. Although only around half a metre deep, it stretched out for several metres of scorched black dirt.

Well . . . That led credence to the falling-to-the-planet theory.

Another thought occurred to her. How long had she been out? Bringing up her Omni tool, she consulted the time and date. Doing some quick arithmetic in her head, she deduced that it had been roughly thirteen hours since Sword and Hammer fleets struck Earth. So factoring in the time spent in battle and the events of the Citadel, she had been unconscious for about . . . eleven hours.

Abigail frowned then brought up a scan. A holographic representation of her body appeared above her Omni tool, numerous sections of which were highlighted in flashing red light. Almost her entire body was critically injured. Shock filtered through her.

_I shouldn't be awake. By all rights I shouldn't even be alive! How the fuck . . . _

An old memory flashed through Abigail's mind from the SR-2 of Miranda and Dr. Chawakas informing her of the extent of her Cerberus augmentations. Hadn't it been something about . . . nanites and cybernetic healing accelerants?

It had just been after one of her first missions with Cerberus and she had been injured, a lucky merc's bullet having managed to sneak in between her armour plates. But to her utter surprise, once the bullet fragment had been extracted, her skin had begun to heal at an alarming rate. Of course, this hadn't escaped the attention of Dr. Chawakas and the good doctor had immediately paged Miranda Lawson, demanding an explanation _right this goddamn minute _about exactly what Cerberus had done to Shepard.

Miranda had coolly walked in to the medical bay and then proceeded into a lecture about cybernetics and augmentation filled with scientific and technical jargon that had gone right over Abigail's head. All she had managed to glean from that (mostly) one sided conversation was that Cerberus had implanted in her some form of microscopic cybernetics that accelerated her healing.

Abigail had then interrupted Miranda, "So, basically what you're saying is: I'll heal quick."

Miranda paused then tilted her head, "It really is more complicated than that Commander, although in essence, I suppose, yes–."

"Good," Abigail had said. "That's all I needed to know. You are free to return to your duties."

"Of course, Commander."

Ever since then, she hadn't really paid it much thought, just taking it for granted. She examined her palm. By the light of her Omni tool, she could see the scars and burns carpeting her skin, but it no longer looked quite as red and angry, instead, the burns looked as if they were several days old.

No doubt, those implants were the only reason she had survived.

_That's twice you've saved my life, Miranda. _

A gust of wind shook Abigail out of her reverie and she shivered. Although her battered armour offered some protection from the harsh elements, it was designed for combat, not comfort and without her helmet; her head was still vulnerable to the bitter cold.

Spotting the outline of a clump of trees to the side, Abigail decided that getting into cover would be the best decision. Once she had a fire going, then she could further assess her options. Her cybernetics may have saved her life, but they wouldn't help if she caught pneumonia.

Abigail began to hobble off towards the trees, her entire body flaring up in pain with every jolt and step.

* * *

Much later, as she huddled over a small, crackling fire - started by a low level incinerate from her Omni tool, Shepard examined her pistol. The M-9 Carnifex handcannon was battered, but the damage was mainly cosmetic and the weapon still remained perfectly functional. However, a more pressing concern was that it only had one thermal clip left. Six rounds before it would be useless.

Abigail frowned at the pistol in her hands, turning it over and ejecting and re-inserting the clip with a dull _click_. With some time and patience (and liberal application of her Omni tool) she might just be able to modify it to its pre-thermal clip configuration, using once again the inbuilt heat sink, as opposed to the disposable clip. But for the moment, Abigail decided that she would keep the pistol in reserve for extreme emergencies only and rely instead on her biotics and her Omni blade.

As it was, she was still exhausted from the battle of Earth and although her wounds had healed to the point where they were the equivalent of being several days old, her body's reserves of energy were very nearly depleted. She seriously doubted if she could even manage a weak biotic push in her current state, let alone a heavy charge.

_I'll just have to hope that I don't run into anyone trying to kill me . . . _Abigail snorted. _Well, at least for a few days anyway_

Speaking of which, Abigail still had no idea as to where she currently might be. She had tried contacting Hackett, the Normandy – anyone and everyone she could, but instead, she was only greeted with static and her Omni tool flashing red and continuing to state in a maddeningly pleasant VI tone: _{Your call could not be connected. Please check your wireless communication server status.}_

_Fat lot of help that is, _Shepard thought bitterly.

Even tuning in to an open broadcast channel and there was nothing, not even the faintest hint of a radio signal. Wherever she had ended up, there was apparently not an inch of technology for hundreds of kilometres around (or at all). And her Omni tool could only do so much; it didn't have enough power to send off an interplanetary distress signal.

_Where the fuck am I?_

The obvious conclusion was that something in the Crucible had caused this. _Yes, but what?_

A possibility came to her after a few moments of silent contemplation: There had been an enormous build-up of dark energy at the Citadel when the Crucible was being fired – which she also happened to be right smack-bang in the middle of.

_And dark energy has the nasty habit of doing shit that no one quite understands. _

She vaguely recalled the strange lurch that she had felt when the Crucible had fired, almost like how she felt during a charge. Then there had been a tremendous explosion and since copious amounts of dark energy were involved, it was safe to say that she could be anywhere in the galaxy at the moment.

_Or even anywhere in the universe. Or shit, with my fucking luck, maybe even a whole new universe altogether!_

Abigail shook her head, strands of red hair falling over her eyes. She gave a weary sigh. Endless theories and speculating till' the cows came home weren't going to help her here. She was no doctor or scientist. She knew exactly _shit all_ about astrophysics or the quantum mechanics of dark energy. She'd have to worry about that later. Being a soldier meant being able to adapt quickly to unknown situations and that pragmatism was what she needed right now.

Assuming she _had_ been catapulted across the galaxy (or the universe) her first priority was survival. Which meant water, food and shelter. In that order. And as she was still wounded and fresh out of medigel, someplace where she could sleep for a good few hours un-interrupted so her implants could fix up the worst of her injuries would be nice too.

Abigail bought up a compass on her Omni tool and after a brief calibration, north turned out to be in the direction of the distant mountains. She'd head there tomorrow, at first light. Her Omni tool was showing the current time to be 10:11 pm, but whatever world she'd ended up in would probably have different hour days so dawn could be no more than a couple of hours or an entire day away. Best to get some rest while she could.

Shepard watched her small fire burn down into embers, small sparks jumping into the air. Her gaze mesmerised by the dying fire, she couldn't help but wonder, _Did we win? Was it all worth it, in the end?_

She mentally shoved that thought aside. Of course it had been worth it. Anything to even have a _chance_ to stop the damn Reapers. She felt a pang in her heart as she thought about her friends, her crew.

_Ashley, Vega, Joker, EDI, Miranda, Sam, Tali, Wrex, Mordin, Garrus, Legion, Anderson. . . Liara._

Those she had _really_ fought for if she was honest with herself; not the galaxy, not the faceless trillions but the people who had made it all worth it, in the end. And how many of them had even survived?

_Don't think like that,_ Abigail berated herself. _I can't afford to think like that. I will get back to them. I will make it out of here . . . wherever 'here' is. _

_I have to. _

Abigail sighed, wearily rubbing her face and wincing as she brushed against the still raw flesh.

Suddenly she heard something in the distance. Shepard immediately stilled, her head cocked to the side as her ears strained to make out any sound.

There it was again.

A faint howling drifted through the air, accompanied by the clank of boots on the ground and the wild screech of inhuman voices.

_What the fuck . . . _

Abigail cursed and hurriedly kicked dirt over the remains of her fire, plunging the world around her in darkness. She frantically blinked and as her night vision slowly returned, and she could make out the small orange flicker of fire moving closer to her position. A moment of confusion, before:

_Pitch torches_, she realised. It was followed closely by, _Who the fuck uses that medieval shit?_

Abigail scrambled to her feet, hand automatically reaching for her pistol. She halted. Maybe these were friendly locals. It wouldn't do to piss them off by accidentally shooting one of them in the head.

She kept her carnifex holstered, opting instead to get her Omni blade ready and concentrating her energy in case she needed to use her biotics.

_Not a good idea_, said a disapproving voice in the back of her head that sounded suspiciously like Dr. Chawakas. _You are dehydrated, injured and exhausted. Conditions that are _not_ conducive to use of biotics._

_Sorry Doc. Desperate times and all . . ._

She could now see figures in the distance, getting readily closer. The screeching was getting louder along with the clashing of metal on metal. She could also hear savage, menacing growling. For a second, she almost thought it was a pack of vorcha, before realising that the figures were much too short and small. The wind shifted and the stench of rotting flesh assaulted her nostrils. Abigail gagged, fighting the urge not to vomit. Even _husks_ didn't smell that bad.

The figures came closer and Abigail took cover by one of the small trees, Omni tool at the ready.

There was a screech and suddenly a grotesque creature appeared in front of Shepard. It was small and hunched up, with heavily disfigured leathery black skin, some form of crude metal armour over its body, and small, cruel yellow eyes. It made a twisted sort of hissing sound, baring its teeth and contorting its head in an almost snake-like manner, a savage smile cutting across its face.

Without warning, the creature suddenly drew some form of axe from its hip and lunged at her.

Abigail reacted almost without thinking. Her carnifex was out and in the blink of an eye, the heavy pistol barked once and the creature was blown back to the ground, a fist sized hole in its face, black blood splattering everywhere.

_Ah, shit, there goes diplomacy. _

Angry screeching filled the air as the rest of the creatures arrived just in time to see their comrade killed. There was a loud roar and as one, the mob of creatures all drew weapons, rusty swords and axes, some carrying shields, and simultaneously rushed her.

Abigail raised her Omni tool and with a wordless command, a silicon carbide blade instantly flash fabricated, glowing white hot and held suspended by mass effect fields. With her other hand, she holstered her pistol and drew her hand into a fist. Blue fire surrounded her body in a corona of dark energy as the crackle of biotics filled the air.

With a loud shout, she charged.

* * *

_So, what do you think? Feedback is much appreciated! A huge thanks to the people who have taken the time to review and to those who have favourited/alerted this :)_


	3. First Blood

_Wow! I'm incredibly flattered by all the attention this little story has managed to get in so little time! A big thank you for all the people who read/reviewed and put this on their alerts. Hugs to you all. I'll try not to disappoint. :) So, without further ado, here is Chapter 3! _

* * *

** Chapter 3 **

** First Blood **

* * *

In the space of a split second, Abigail was propelling herself forward in a stream of blue biotic light. She connected with one of the creatures with a detonation that sent the rest of them flying backwards into the dirt. Coming out of her charge, she immediately drove her omniblade into the chest of the unlucky creature that had managed to remained standing. The white-hot blade punctured through its crude armour like a hot knife through butter, before she cut upwards, vivisecting its upper body with a spray of black blood. Around her, the other creatures thrown to the ground were regaining their senses, screeching and howling, scrambling to recover their dropped weapons.

Abigail didn't give them a chance.

Her omniblade flashed four times, an almost surreal streak of glowing orange in the darkness of the night. Four of the creatures fell to the ground, all missing their heads. The N7 marine was moving before their bodies even hit the dirt. Adrenaline pumping through her veins and dulling the pain of her wounds, she wove through the remaining creatures in a – although no less deadly – half limp. Her left arm was flashing in perfectly timed strikes, omniblade cutting through bone, flesh and armour with almost ridiculous ease, at times igniting the fabric underneath and sending the unfortunate creature to a painful burning death.

The air around Abigail suddenly sparked up blue and a small wickedly sharp black arrow fell to the ground, its shaft splintered, deflected by her kinetic barrier. Another arrow sailed out of the night only to meet the same fate.

_Arrows?_ Abigail thought incredulously. _Who the hell uses arrows? _

Her eyes immediately scanned the surrounding area, zeroing in on the direction the projectiles had come from. Her keen eyes found the small figure a good distance away, visible as only a fleeting shadow against the night sky. With one smooth motion, she drew, aimed and fired her Carnifex, the handcannon barking loudly and sending a paint-chip sized projectile through the air at an incredible velocity, slamming into the chest of the creature in the distance that was in the middle of re-loading its bow, killing it instantly.

Capitalising on her distraction, one of the creature managed to get under her guard and, snarling viciously, struck at Abigail with a large, jagged sword. Although moving too slowly for her barriers to block, the rusty metal only clanged against her armour, barely denting the steel and ceramic. Even though it didn't penetrate, the force behind the blow was not inconsiderable and forced Abigail back, her side flaring up in pain as her injuries protested the violent treatment.

_Fuck . . ._

Abigail growled and in response, her body flared up with biotics and she made a flicking gesture with her hand, causing the offending creature to be snatched up into the air by pale blue fire then slammed back down onto the ground with a sickening crunch.

There had been about a dozen of the creatures to begin with, now only four remained. These ones were more cautious however after watching the rest of their group decimated in so many seconds by the woman wielding blue magic and a blade of flames. They circled her warily, snarling at each other in an unfamiliar, guttural language; none of them wanting to attack first.

Abigail took the chance for a quick respite to catch her breath and gather her strength. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the full brunt of her injuries were making their presence known once again. Painfully. Her muscles burned and her whole body was awash with fatigue. She gritted her teeth and drew deep into the reserves of her strength, steeling herself for the remaining fight ahead. And she wasn't a moment too soon.

The four remaining creatures all charged at once, howling crazily into the air, weapons held up high. Abigail responded by gathering together as much biotic power as she could in her weakened state and unleashing a miniature shockwave around her. Although relatively weak compared to what she was capable of normally, as it was, Abigail almost fainted as her body drew on her last remaining energy stores to fuel the biotic attack, darkness tugging at the edge of her vision.

The blue wave rippled in a small radius around her causing the remaining creatures to stumble back, giving Abigail time to lunge forward and drive her omniblade into the heart of the creature in front of her. It died with a twisted scream and collapsed onto the ground but just as quickly, another took its place, snarling and attempting to disembowel her with a pike. Shepard neatly side stepped the thrust and responded with a swipe of her own, the white hot blade separating the creature's head from the rest of its body. But that left her sides open to attack, something which the remaining two creatures took full advantage off.

Likely knowing that they would lose against her in a straight fight, the creatures opted to instead tackle her. In her weakened state, Abigail offered little resistance and was bowled over, crashing painfully to the ground, the air knocked out of her lungs, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. The creatures were on top of her a second later, tearing into her armour and to every bit of exposed flesh with dagger sharp, curved nails.

Shepard almost blacked out as one of the creatures landed a hit on her ribs, jostling one of the many fractures in the bone. With a pained grunt, she managed to bring up her omniblade and make a half hearted swipe at the creature. Her movements were sluggish however and the creature easily dodged it. Fast running out of energy and with every nerve in her body crying out in pain, hastening the loss of her already shaky grip on consciousness; Abigail knew she had to end this fight. Now.

She managed to roll to her side, slightly dislodging the creature above her and groped around her hip, her fingers finding the cool handle of her pistol. She brought up the Carnifex, the weapon unfolding in a second, jammed it right into the face of one of the creatures and pulled on the trigger resulting in an explosion of black blood and rank flesh raining down on her as the creature's head was promptly blown off.

Partially free of some weight, Abigail twisted and brought her elbow upwards, slamming it into the last creature's windpipe, causing it to choke and instinctively grasp its throat. She quickly raised her pistol and fired again, blowing the creature back in a mess of blood and gore as the bullet punched through armour and eviscerated its torso.

The night returned to silence.

Breathing hard and covered in blood – both her own and the strange black blood of the creatures, and far too exhausted to move or even remotely give a damn, Abigail lay back in the cool grass, watching the brilliant canopy of stars stretching overhead. A tinge of pink was just beginning to creep its way across the horizon, heralding the dawn. Her vision was fading to black; pain and the fact that she simply did not have any energy remaining, finally taking their toll. The last thought that flashed across her mind was: _Fuck. These things _really _stink_. With that, her grip on consciousness was lost and she surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

Abigail drifted, not really sure if she was awake or dreaming, she wasn't sure how long she lay there, reality blending in with dreams into one massive blur of pain and disjointed images. Her mouth was hot and dry, her throat painfully burning.

_Water_. Oh how she'd kill for a nice glass of ice cold water right now.

_Actually, scratch that_. How she'd kill for some goddamn medi-gel to make her skin stop feeling like it was slowly being submerged in acid.

Sometimes she saw the Normandy CIC, her crew joking around the ship; then just as quickly she was back on that field in the unknown planet. Other times she relived the final dash for the beam, Harbinger's MHD cutting soldiers apart with methodical ease.

Then sometimes it was Mordin's final words. _"Has to be me, Shepard . . ." _

Or Legion's. _"Does this unit have a soul? . . . " _

She was so disorientated and delirious that when she began to hear the voices fading in and out above her, at first, she thought it was just a dream.

". . . who is she? . . "

". . . the lady is garbed strangely . . . armour perhaps? I . . ."

". . . by the Valar! The dead orcs! She . . . slain them all . . ."

". . . a mighty feat. . ."

". . . obviously . . . quite hurt. See those fearsome wounds! Poor lady . . . must have died quickly . . ."

_Died?_ That brought her closer to awareness. If Abigail could have snorted, she would have. _I'm not goddamn dead yet._ It took every last drop of determination and strength she possessed for her to slowly move her head from side to side. In response, a vicious spike of pain drove through her temples, pounding furiously and she let out a low groan.

". . .behold, she yet lives! . . ."

". . . impossible! . . . how can this be –"

". . . it matters not! We must take her to the healer . . . know what to do . . ."

". . . make haste . . . close to death as it is . . ."

"My lady? My lady, can you hear me?"

A cool hand briefly pressed against her burning cheek and Abigail sighed with relief, savouring the cold touch.

". . . she is ill, wracked by fever . . ."

"My lady, concentrate on my voice. Do not sleep! You'll not die here, I promise it. Quickly, hand me that cloth . . .

Someone jostled her and it was all Abigail could do not to scream out as seemingly every nerve in her body simultaneously fired off in pain. She had the vague feeling of being lifted before she once again lost hold of consciousness and slipped into the soothing oblivion of darkness.

* * *

_Thank you! Please let me know what you think! _


	4. Reveille

_A/N: Wow! Again, cheers to everyone who has taken the time to review this story! Very much appreciated! Without further ado ... on with the show!_

* * *

**Chapter 4  
**

**Reveille**

* * *

A shadow flickered against the clear blue sky. A whisper, a fleeting glimpse of a black claw reaching down . . . Suddenly, beams of red fire were sweeping across the city, leveling skyscrapers in seconds, sending them crashing down in great plumes of black dust and smoke. Husks moaned and scrambled around in the ruins, glowing blue implants shining from their ash grey skin, their empty eyes unseeing, devoid of life.

Soldiers valiantly tried to hold the tide of Reaper forces back, but to no avail. An marine fired off his shotgun, vivisecting husks one after the other, black blood disgorging into the air in almost slow motion, before they swarmed him, tearing into his armour like it was made of foil, their claws gouging into flesh . . .

The bark of a sniper rifle cut through the air. Marauders, ravagers and husks were felled before a Reaper destroyer ended it by firing its MHD into the building the sniper was in, sending it tumbling to the ground amidst fiery explosions.

Earth fell as the Reapers descended from the darkness of space, a thousand murderous hands reaching down, bringing with them the end of all.

And she had left them. Run away. Like a coward.

And marines were _not_ cowards.

The scene around her shifted and she was once more in that bleak forest. Abigail saw the little boy, crouched over in the distance playing with his model Alliance fighter. He saw her and briefly smiled before laughing and running off. She had to save him . . . the Reapers . . . Abigail tired to run but everything had turned sluggish, as if she was walking underwater. She tried to reach out to the child, She was so close . . .

Just as she finally reached him, the little boy turns around, an almost accusing look on his face. _Why didn't you save me?_ his eyes seemed to ask. _Why?_

Abigail reached out her hand but the awful blaring of a Reaper shattered the silence and the forest was bathed in crimson light. Crimson like blood . . .

The little boy looks into her eyes as flames begin to lick up his sides, before engulfing him completely. _Why didn't you save me?_

Then she was back in the Collector base, fighting off a seemingly endless wave of drones. Every now and then, one of the drones would buckle, shake and glow as it was possessed by the Collector general.

"This hurts you." Harbinger's mocking tone echoes through Abigail's mind. "If I must destroy you Shepard, then I will."

Then she was once more on the Citadel, heretic geth swarming through the wards, the distinctive whine of their pulse rifles and the clicks of their chatter cutting through the air. Now it was Sovereign's chilling voice that seems to leech into her very being, making the stars above tremble in fear.

"I am the vanguard of your destruction."

All of a sudden, the Reapers vanished and instead, a gigantic flaming eye filled her vision. An inhuman, guttural voice, filled with an unfathomable level of malice and hatred, spoke.

_"I see you, Shepard." _

* * *

Abigail woke with a gasp, her heartbeat roaring in her ears, adrenaline surging through her body. Her vision still blurry, she could vaguely make out a dark figure hovering above her. Soldier's instinct kicked in and she brought up her arm protectively over her body, Omni blade appearing in a flash, ready to stab forward or block an incoming blow. A blow that never came.

Her vision focused and she slowly lowered her Omni blade, quickly taking in her environment. She was lying in a cot, alone in a small room. Rough timber walls surrounded her, there were no windows and on the far side of the room, was a door. Overhead the beams of timber supporting the ceiling were visible. Through the gaps in the wall and the sunlight peeking through, she could make out that it was daytime.

A rickety old table sat beside the cot with what looked to be a ceramic jar and mug. Her armour was gone; a fact which momentarily distressed her, until she saw it was piled neatly over by the corner of the room. Presently, she was dressed in a loose, woollen tunic.

It was then Abigail realised that her body was no longer hurting quite as badly as it had before. She noticed that many of her burns and cuts had been wrapped in cloth, with some kind of foul smelling herbal mixture lathered on underneath. Already, she was feeling a hundred times better, her energies replenished. The nanites had done their job then. She still ached however; her muscles and bones sore and heavily bruised. Her throat was parched and her skin still felt hot to the touch, a fever running through her body. It would take several more days before she would fully recuperate. But she was combat ready – albeit barely.

Abigail frowned glancing around the room again. She could have sworn that she had seen someone by her bedside earlier. But the room was empty. Not even any guards, or restraints. So, not a prisoner then. That was good.

Now, where the hell was she?

The door creaked open and she half raised her blade, ready to defend herself, but not being overly aggressive. Whoever had taken her here didn't seem to have made much of an effort to keep her locked up, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

It turned out to be an old human man standing by the doorway. He had a heavily wrinkled face worn by years of constant sun, but it didn't diminish his bright smile or the twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes. His shoulder length hair was dark brown, liberally streaked with grey and it hung loosely around his face.

Humans? Here?

Puzzled, Abigail deactivated her omniblade. "Hello?" she said, cautiously. Where had she ended up? Perhaps a distant colony from one of the early expeditions? That was a possibility. Although it didn't explain the apparent lack of technology.

"Ah, you are awake, young one," said the old man jovially. If he had been bothered by her omniblade, he didn't let it show. He stepped into the room and brought in with him a large basket covered in cloth. Abigail tensed, eyeing it apprehensively until he removed the cloth to reveal bread and several containers of food. The warm, fragrant aroma wafted into the air, making her stomach grumble loudly. The man laughed and set the basket down on the bedside table talking as he unloaded the food. "It pleases me that you did not pass into the void. Your injuries were quite severe. The healer wasn't sure that you would even live through the night."

"You . . . did this?" asked Abigail, gesturing to the rough bandages covering most of her skin.

The old man tilted his head to the side, "Some of the hunters found you lying in the wilderness, amidst the slain corpses of many foul orcs."

Orcs. So that's what those husk things were called.

The old man continued, "Your wounds were indeed, terrible and grievous. They returned to the village with you, and our healer spent many hours keeping you from slipping into darkness. "

"I . . . thank you, for your kindness, sir," murmured Shepard.

The old man let out a boisterous laugh, "Sir! I haven't been called 'sir' in many seasons, young one. Here, I am simply known as 'Elder'."

"Okay . . . Elder?"

The Elder nodded, before breaking off a piece of bread and handing it over to Abigail. She eagerly devoured it in seconds, sighing in content as solid food hit her stomach for the first time in what felt like several days.

The old man chuckled. "Eat well, young one, for your energies are spent. You must rest. Recover. We will speak more when you are sounder in mind and body." The Elder then gave a slight bow before departing, shuffling out before shutting the door behind him with a small creak.

Making short work of the food, Abigail then turned to the ceramic jug on the table beside her and was surprised to discover that it contained some form of weak beer. Initially, she had been suspicious, thinking they intended to drug her, but pragmatic thinking won out in the end as she realised that this was probably standard fare for these people. Judging by the technology level she observed around her, they were still squarely in the dark ages and so clean water was probably a precious commodity. By fermenting the water into beer, they destroyed any harmful organisms and made it safe to drink.

With this realisation, she greedily gulped down several glasses, nearly emptying the jug. Her hunger sated and her thirst quenched, she lay back down again, closing her eyes, letting herself be tugged back into sleep.

* * *

When Abigail awoke again, it was night. For a moment, she was disorientated. _What happened? Reapers? Husks? No – they were called 'orcs'. Wait, what? – Oh. Yeah. _ She awoke fully, her eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the darkness. That was when she saw the pair of bright blue eyes staring back down at her.

_Threat!_

She quelled her first instinct to lash out and forced herself to calm down. Upon closer observation, the pair of eyes were not, as she first thought, suspended in the air. They belonged to the form of a little girl – no more than nine – perhaps ten years old who was staring at Abigail with a curious expression on her face.

Abigail slowly, as not to alarm the little girl, sat up on the cot. Glancing around the room revealed that it was only the two of them there.

"Hi there," Abigail said softly to the girl who was now perched on the end of her bed.

The little girl cocked her head to the side, examining the older woman. "Are you an elf?" she asked suddenly.

Abigail blinked, taken aback before frowning. Where had _that_ come from? "Well," she began, "unless anything else weird has happened since I last checked, I'm pretty sure I'm still human."

The little girl frowned. "Oh. OK then." She then glanced, almost guiltily at the doorway. "Elder says I have to tell him when you are awake." With that, the little girl scampered off, disappearing through the door before Abigail could blink.

Okay . . .

Abigail decided it was high time she got up. Wincing as her injuries flared up in pain, she slowly got off the cot, her head spinning from vertigo as all the blood rushed to her head. She had been definitely laying down for too long. She stumbled briefly before regaining her balance. Although her legs still felt a little shaky and weak, she was able to walk around the small room several times, strength slowly returning to her limbs.

She went over to the corner where her armour was and inspected the damage. Abigail winced. Most of the breast plate and back plate had been worn down almost to their base meshing, the ceramic alloy all but disintegrated. Her greaves, pauldrons and arm guards fared marginally better with only deep gouges and intensive scorch marks running across the surface. Her boots were a little scuffed and scorched as well, but still functional.

Abigail frowned, thinking hard. Even with her omni tool's fabricator, it would take a lot of raw materials and _time_ to be able to restore her armour to acceptable working order. Taking another glance at the battered ablative ceramic pads, she amended; _And a serious new paint job_.

However, she was surprised to see that her bodysuit had survived mostly intact. A few gashes and tears here and there of course, but it would still do its job. She quickly stripped out of the rough hessian dress the locals had garbed her in and shimmied into her bodysuit, the fabric armour welcoming her like a long lost friend. As an afterthought, she put on her boots as well, strapping them on tight. She'd rather not walk around barefoot, thank you very much!

Examining her kinetic barrier emitter, she pulled up a scan with her omni tool was relieved to find only cosmetic damage. Abigail debated with herself for a moment before deciding to detach the emitter from her armour, clipping it and her belt around her waist. At least it would offer her some protection, although from the looks of things, it might not be all that useful in this planet which apparently hadn't even heard of gunpowder.

If they were only using swords and other equivalent basic hand held weapons, her shield wouldn't be able to block them as the barrier only detected objects moving at a fast enough velocity – such as bullets and apparently, arrows. Small comfort. And she couldn't exactly walk around . . . wherever this was with a biotic barrier up. That might lead to. . . awkward questions which Abigail would rather avoid.

Heaping the remains of her now useless armour to the side, she spotted the compacted form of her carnifex at the bottom. Bending down, she picked it up and expanded it, checking the clip. Abigail sighed. Two shots left. She needed to modify this – the sooner the better. Although the cool down time would be atrocious, it would be a damn sight better than relying on her biotics for extended periods of time. She risked blowing her implant with that much exertion. For the mean time, she compacted it again and attached it to her belt.

Now, where had that little girl gone? Didn't she say she was going to get the Elder?

A distant crash caught Abigail's attention. She froze, head cocked to the side, the marine in her instantly assessing potential dangers. Her slightly enhanced hearing, courtesy of Cerberus implants, could pick out more distant noise, similar to the clash of metal on metal. Then the screaming began.

Abigail immediately headed over to the door wrenched it open to reveal a small village street, old wooden buildings lining the edges of the dirt road. People dressed in simple medieval clothing were running in panic, shouting and screaming, their faces masks of terror. Adults were carrying their children, who in turn were sobbing in a combination of fear and panic. Cries of "Flee!" and "Orcs!" filled the air.

Abigail zeroed in on that. Orcs? Those husk-like things that had attacked her? Unconsciously, she drew her Carnifex, the weapon expanding in her hand with a small chirp. There was another crash from the end of the street, followed by an enormous roar. More screams rent the air as the remaining townspeople panicked and fled in the opposite direction.

Abigail turned to the source of the sound and felt her blood run cold. There were orcs all right. Lots of them. She quickly scanned their numbers; there were about a dozen of them, maybe more, all heavily armed and armoured. But what really grabbed her attention was the monstrous behemoth standing in the centre of the formation of orcs. It was as big as a Brute – maybe even bigger. Resembling a bald gorilla, it roared and stomped it humongous feet on the ground with enough force to make the village rattle.

There was a split second of silence before someone cried out, "Troll!"

Abigail cracked her neck. _Fuck_.

* * *

_Please let me know what you think! _

_P.S. The chapter title, for those who don't know, refers to a Navy "wake up call".  
_


	5. Trolls and Other Assorted Problems

**Chapter Five **

**Trolls and Other Assorted Problems **

* * *

Pitch torches burned brightly in the night, the flames flickering madly as the orcs holding them ambled around, screeching. Some had begun to set fire to the village's buildings, the dry wood instantly catching alight. Already, plumes of smoke were rising up into the starry night sky, orange flames burning brightly beneath them.

The troll roared, straining and buckling against the chains attached to the collar around its neck as it tried its damndest to break loose from its handlers. The unfortunate orcs attempting to restrain it squealed as they were thrown around by the strength of the creature. More orcs had to almost jump on the chains to prevent the troll's premature escape.

The majority of the townspeople had already made it to the far side of the village, and were disappearing into the darkness of the surrounding forest. Abigail was about to turn and follow them when she caught a high pitched scream. Swivelling around, she saw the little girl who had woken her up, standing at the centre of the road, her eyes wide and glued to the horde of incoming orcs. Silhouetted against the burning houses, they made a fearsome sight.

"Come on!" Abigail screamed out. "Move!" But the little girl was petrified, frozen in fear and remained unmoving. _Shit!_ Abigail's mind instantly flashed to the last child who she couldn't save. The memory of that shuttle being shot to pieces over Vancouver filled her mind's eye. _Not this time!_

It was at that exact moment that the troll gave a mighty roar and with a twist of its huge body, it wrenched itself free from the hold of the orcs, scattering them through the air and sending them crashing into the ground around it. With a tremendous bellow, it charged down the centre of the village – heading directly at the little girl.

_Oh-Fuck-Fuck-Fuck!_

Abigail bought up her Carnifex and quickly taking aim, fired off a round, the heavy pistol barking once and buckling in her hand from the recoil. The round flew through the air with incredible velocity, instantly hitting the troll dead centre, causing a fist sized hole to appear in the leathery flesh of its chest, a cloud of black blood spraying into the air. The enormous creature staggered back, roaring as it flailed its humongous arms around in pain.

Capitalising on its distraction, Abigail wasted no time and sped forward, grabbing the little girl around the waist before turning and running back towards the rest of the fleeing townspeople, compacting her Carnifex as she went. But the troll was far from dead. A haze of rage seemed to fall over its eyes and it bellowed as it spotted Abigail's fleeing form, recognising at the one who had inflicted it with so much pain. Blood streaming down its chest, the troll picked itself up and gave chase, using its enormous hands as impromptu feet as it barrelled towards the marine and the little girl with frightening speed.

Glancing back, she Abigail's eyes widened as the troll rapidly ate up the distance between them. She quickly realised that there was no way that they would be able to outrun it and she would couldn't both fight it off and protect the little girl at the same time. They had only seconds . . .

She only had one choice.

Abigail put the little girl on the ground, shouting out: "Run!" The little girl scrambled off, stumbling slightly, but not before shooting Abigail a fearful look.

"Go!" the woman roared. The little girl hesitated before sprinting away as fast as her short legs could carry her. Already one of the village women had seen what was happening and was running back, making her was towards the little girl. Her safety assured, Abigail turned back to the charging troll, now only scant metres away.

The marine's face was blank, almost stoic. Her green eyes were hard and deadly, burning with a fire of determination that had bought down everything from geth colossi to collector praetorians, thresher maws to Reapers. Any other sane living creature in the universe would have instantly understood that when Commander Shepard gave you _that_ look, things were about to go very, very bad for you. Unfortunately for the troll, it was not in any way what could be described as _sane_. It remained on its path, intending to plough into Abigail and pound her into a smear on the ground. At least, that was the theory.

So it was to the troll's compete surprise when the N7 marine began to glow, an aura of pale blue flames coming to life over her body. Abigail gathered the dark energy around her, coalescing it into an intensely compacted envelope like she had done hundreds of times before. She pulled a savage grin at the incoming troll and released all the energy with a loud shout. She was propelled forward in a stream of mass-less space, a split second later exploding out of her biotic charge directly in front of the troll and sending the creature staggering back as she slammed the point of her shoulder into its sternum, the temporary barrier she had created in front of her soaking up the impact damage.

The world seemed to slow down for Abigail as she came out of the charge, giving her the time to both activate her omni blade and draw her Carnifex. The troll's mouth was open in a roar as Abigail stabbed up with the silicon carbide blade, sinking it deep into the troll's eye. At the same time, she bought up her Carnifex and jabbed it into the centre of the troll's twisted face, yanking the trigger and firing her last round. A spurt of black blood exploded from its face at the same time that her omni blade sunk deep into its head, both the blade and the bullet penetrating the brain and instantly killing the troll. It remained standing for a moment, almost as if its body couldn't belive it was dead, before slowly falling backwards onto the ground with a heavy thud, Abigail crouched on its chest, anchored by her omni blade in its head.

There was silence from the assembled orcs as they all beheld Abigail slowly standing up, her armoured bodysuit drenched in troll blood. She compacted her pistol and hopped off the corpse of the now faceless troll, landing on her feet and looking up; her features alight with a fierce viciousness. Already, biotics were again beginning to crackle around her body. She lifted a hand wreathed in blue fire and made a come-hither motion at the orcs.

"Who's next?" she growled.

The horde of orcs seemed to take that as their signal. This bunch was marginally more intelligent than the previous ones she had fought, Abigail thought. Instead of rushing her one by one, they attacked as one group, attempting to swarm and overwhelm her with sheer numbers. But unfortunately for them, if there was one thing biotics were extremely proficient at, it was crowd control.

Abigail grinned and let loose a powerful shockwave directly at the incoming orcs. The pulsating biotic wave slammed into them, swatting them aside like a fiery blue freight train and sending them flying through the air and crashing painfully on to the ground.

Abigail was moving a second later, summoning another charge; she leapt forward, crossing the remaining distance between her and the fallen orcs in the blink of an eye. As she exited her charge, the marine drew her fist back and just as the dazed orcs were attempting to regain their footing; Abigail slammed her fist into the ground, channelling all the energy from her barrier into one gigantic nova blast that smashed through the orcs, the intensely pressurised wave pulverising many of them in their armour, leaving nothing behind but a pulpy, bloody mess.

Breathing hard, Abigail stood slowly, surveying the devastation around her. Illuminated by the flickering flames from the burning buildings behind her, and with black blood dripping from her fabric armour and her glowing omni blade protruding from her hand; to anyone watching, she would have looked like a demon of death.

Some distance away, an orc who was still alive was trying to regain its footing. Abigail saw its movement and without a second thought, fired of a biotic pull, yanking the now weightless and immobile orc through the air towards her. As it came closer, she drew back her arm, clenching her hand into a fist and summoning biotic energy around it with a building crackle. Increasing the mass of her hand tenfold, she punched forward, smashing her glowing fist into the unfortunate orc, which was instantly crushed and blown back to the ground, tumbling around lifelessly as she extinguished the pull.

Adrenaline coursing through her veins and her heart thudding loudly, Abigail took deep, shuddering breaths, all of a sudden feeling light headed and dizzy as the heat of the battle quickly wore off and the full might of her injuries returned. She had to fight not to vomit right there and then as her recent meal threatened to make an unwelcome re-appearance. She was acutely familiar with the symptoms of biotic exhaustion and Abigail knew that she needed food and drink, preferably high in sugar and calories in order to replenish her expended energy.

Abigail turned around, staggering slightly, weaving like a drunkard as she walked back towards the centre of the village. Already several of the townspeople had gathered around the dead troll, gasping and exclaiming as they pointed to its gouged out face. Then they saw her. One of the men shouted, pointing at her, obviously seeing her exhausted state. The rest of the villages rushed forward, grabbing hold of Abigail to support her as she slumped and wavered, threatening to fall face first onto the dirt.

"Milady! Where are your injured?" asked one of the villages in concern.

"She slaughtered those orcs like cattle!" exclaimed another man, staring at Abigail with unabashed wonder.

A woman garbed in a leaf green dress made her way forward, a kind look on her face. "We must get you to a healer," she said softly. Turning to the two men keeping Abigail upright, she beckoned at them. "Come, bring her over . . . gently! Gently!" Both men supported her, draping Abigail's arms across their shoulders as they began to make their way down the village. More and more people were appearing, having heard that the orcs were no more. Many openly gawked at Abigail – and more importantly at the blood covering her. Hushed whispers began to break out across the villagers.

"M' fine," Abigail slurred, "Just . . . tired. Biotic exhaustion, see," she said to the man to her left. The man just nodded, having no idea what she meant.

"Did using your magic tire you out, madam?" he asked.

_Magic? Oh – yeah. Biotics would seem like some pretty wild shit to them. _

"That's one way to put it," grunted Abigail as she stumbled over a pothole on the dirt road, her legs feeling like limp noodles. Too much energy spent – Chakwas would be rolling her eyes in exasperation. That is, if she was even still alive. That thought sobered her up quickly. If _any_ of them were even still alive. Abigail gritted her teeth. It further re-enforced that she had to get back to them, as soon as physically possible. For all she knew, the Crucible could have failed – the war could still be going. _But for how much longer?_ And here she was, taken out of the fight and stuck in some backwater planet that was still firmly in the middle ages. _Wonderful._

"Make way! Make way!" The voice of an old man parted the crowd and the Elder strode forward, concern upon his face. "Milady," he scolded, "You should now have been standing, let alone fighting orcs! Your injuries are still fresh. Come, we must get you to rest."

"I'm fine," repeated Abigail, touched by their worry. "I wasn't even hurt." She held up a hand, "See? Not a scratch. Well, apart from the blood and all – but that's not mine, so don't worry."

The Elder placed a worn hand on her shoulder, ignoring the black troll blood that covered it. "Nevertheless, your previous wounds have not completely healed." He smiled gently. "Your bravery was unquestionable. Were it not for your heroic actions, those orcs would have certainly slaughtered us. We are in your debt."

Murmurs of agreement were echoed by the crowd.

Eventually, they reached a small hut and after entering, Abigail realised that it was the room she had woken up on. The men left with a small bow, leaving the Elder alone with her. Guiding her to the bed, the Elder motioned her to sit. "Some of the women will assist you in bathing – if that is your wish," he said. "I will return later with more food. Please – stay still until the healer can assess your injuries." He lit a candle, leaving it by her bedside table; gave her a small smile, and then left, presumably to assess the damage to his village.

Alone again, Abigail examined her fabric armour, wrinkling her nose at the foul stench the troll blood gave off. Outside, it hadn't been too bad as the fresh air had taken the brunt of the smell but in a confined space, there was no escape. She quickly peeled off the skin suit and her armoured boots, grimacing slightly in pain as her wounds stretched and tossed them onto the hard wooden floor in the far corner of the room. She'd clean the grime and blood off them later. She just hoped that the smell could be cleaned off too; otherwise her foreseeable future would become . . . interesting, aroma-wise.

There was a hesitant knock on the door. "Come in!" called out Abigail, throwing down her last blood-soaked glove. The door creaked open to reveal two women with clothes and carrying a bucket of water, who immediately gasped when they saw her. Abigail glanced at down at herself to see what they had found so alarming and immediately understood. She was clad only in her underwear, but more importantly, it revealed the full extent of her injuries. In the darkness, the glowing orange scars that criss-crossed her chest, abdomen, shoulders – practically every inch of her skin, were even more prominent. Although the edges were slowly fading, the nanites still had a long way to go, and even though she had long gotten used to seeing the cybernetic implants, to these people, it would be beyond their understanding.

"Hey, relax," Abigail said, making a placating hand gesture at the women who continued to stare, horrified, at her glowing wounds. She gestured at her body, "Seriously, it's fine. It'll heal."

The woman on the left shook her head, her black hair shimmering in the candlelight, seemingly to focus herself although her eyes still occasionally strayed onto Abigail's injuries. She held up a cloth. "The Elder said that you might require assistance in bathing," she murmured, her companion nodding.

Abigail hesitated, noting how they seemed nervous and avoided meeting her eyes, before giving them a small smile. "It's okay, just leave them here. I can manage. Thank you, though."

The women nodded, placing the cloths and buckets by the doorway. Although they were far too polite to say it out loud, it was clear to Abigail that they were relieved. Honestly, she couldn't blame them. She herself thought that those cybernetic implants were weird and she lived in a society that could clone replacement organs and perform synthetic grafting surgery. To these people, she would be beyond weird – and terrifying. The way she had so brutally slaughtered those orcs probably didn't help her paragon image, either.

The woman on the left hesitated by the door, before turning back to Abigail. Although the apprehension was still there, it was joined by a look of gratitude shining through her eyes.

"Thank you milady," the woman whispered, "for saving my daughter."

Abigail froze, before nodding softly. "How is she?"

The woman shifted, "She is – scared, although unharmed." She finally looked up, meeting Abigail's gaze. "You are in my family's eternal debt. Those orcs . . . were it not for your actions . . ." The woman broke off, shuddering as the very idea of her what might have happened to her daughter overwhelmed her. Abigail rose to her feet and made her way over to the women, placing her hand on the mother's shoulder. The woman stiffened slightly, before relaxing again.

"Hey," Abigail said, "She's fine. You're fine. Those orcs are gone; you have nothing left to worry about."

"Thank you milady," said the mother, "If there is anything you require, please do not hesitate to let us know." Abigail nodded, giving her a smile before backing off.

The mother paused, "And one other thing . . . I would like to know the name of the woman who saved my daughter." A slightly panicked look crossed her face. "That is, if you are willing to share –"

"No, no, it's fine," Abigail interrupted her. "It's . . . Shepard. My name, that is."

The mother bowed her head. "Thank you, Lady Shepard," she said before turning and beckoning to the other woman. They both departed, swinging the door shut behind them.

Abigail sat back on the bed, absently rubbing her now sore shoulder. Those trolls were tough sons-of-bitches! Especially their bones.

That little girl, the gratitude her mother had given her – all reminded Abigail of what she fought so hard for. So that children like that girl could live for a new future.

_A future free from the Reapers, _whispered a voice in her head. Abigail clenched her fist. It grated on her, that she didn't know what had happened. If the war had truly ended. If anything she had done really had mattered, in the grand scheme of things. So many dead . . . Thessia's fall came to mind, along with the knowledge that if she had just been a little bit stronger, a little bit faster, she could have prevented so much more pain and suffering.

But that little girl . . . she had reminded her, that was what she fought for. Never mind grandiose notions of saving the galaxy, she had fought so hard, bled so much for the people she cared about; her team, her crew, her friends. And to not know if they were even alive . . .

Abigail sighed. Thoughts like that were not going to help her here. Wherever she had ended up, she'd need to assess the situation, get as much information as she could and hopefully, find a way back_. _

_If there was even a galaxy to go back to._

No – not thinking like that, Abigail berated herself. She couldn't afford to wallow in self pity. This place was obviously filled with unknowns and dangers – like those orcs; dangers that she would have to face again if she had any hope of surviving long enough to get a distress beacon going.

Abigail lay back on the cot, extinguishing the candle; closing her eyes and letting sleep take her. She'd worry about that in the morning. In the darkness, as she drifted off into sleep, a fragment of a dream came haunting back to her: a flaming eye, a guttural voice filled with cold fury and hate.

"_I see you, Shepard." _

* * *

_Thank you to all my readers! What do you think? Constructive criticism is always welcomed :)  
_


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